


where the beast and the beauty coalesce

by LittleLostStar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, kind of?, rhythmic prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLostStar/pseuds/LittleLostStar
Summary: Yuuri has emotional visions of the future; Victor has perfect hindsight. Somehow they make it work.





	where the beast and the beauty coalesce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiaronna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiaronna/gifts).



It’s always the same with Victor, always the push and pull, the stretch to the very edge of a breaking point and the snap backwards, violent and abrupt in the moment and then eerily calm in the aftermath. It’s always the same, and always different. Reliably haunting in brand new ways. And then he’s there again, to cradle Yuuri’s head in his hands, to shush his sobs and wipe his tears away with a swipe of the thumb and always always always the refrain:  _ it’s okay. _

Yuuri wants very badly to believe him. Sometimes he almost does. 

But then he has another vision, another onslaught, another piece of a puzzle whose sides stretch beyond the horizon. And he doesn’t know how many more times he can do this, how many more times Victor will be patient with him, how many more times he’ll hear  _ it’s not okay. _

The nature of the future is uncertainty. Yuuri is no exception. 

~

(try it again.)

It’s never the same with Yuuri, and that’s what makes it fascinating, in the same way that the Earth itself is fascinating. It’s huge and bewildering, completely out of Victor’s control but at the same time more subject to his whims than he probably wants to admit. He has to be gentle, except for all the times when he doesn’t. He has to be good and kind, but  _ has to _ implies that it’s a burden, and it’s not. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy, when Yuuri gets that look in his eyes and Victor knows, he knows, he  _ knows _ . 

Yuuri tries very hard not to let it show, but Victor isn’t fooled. Someday Yuuri will know that, too, just as sure as Victor does, and he’ll never have to hear  _ I don’t know, I’m not sure, what if. _

Yuuri can’t see the whole picture, though. It’s not his fault, and he copes as best he can. But he’s haunted, hunted, a young buck with the slightest wobble remaining in his legs. He’s got no choice but to be in the thick of it, to brace himself for impact after impact, to prepare for the worst and hope, fleetingly, for the best. Sometimes the definition of “best” is the refrain that breaks Victor again and again, always and always, of  _ two lovers turn to friends, _ and all Victor can do is to take Yuuri’s hands and whisper:  _ this isn’t yet where we’re supposed to be. _

~

(jump back.) 

The banquet is fine. It’s just fine. But Victor is so bored. It’s all the same, all a repeat, nothing but  _ you've heard it all before, it’s not okay, I’m sorry.  _

And yet there’s a funny feeling in his chest, this little piece of perfect hindsight, and it says  _ tonight will show you exactly where you’re supposed to be.  _

He doesn’t really know how. Banquets are banquets; the most Victor is expecting to get is a hotel key card slipped into his hand, or maybe some phone numbers for people he’ll flirtatiously text for a while and then slowly ghost, because he knows, he knows, he  _ knows. _ Not right. Not right. Not right. 

There’s a crowd gathering on the dance floor, though, and the little feeling whispers  _ there _ and  _ go _ and  _ be changed forever. _

Dancing with Yuuri is a revelation. The guy is drunk off his ass, but it doesn’t matter; Victor has never felt anything like this before.  _ This is it, _ he thinks.  _ This is home. This is him. _

He goes home. He waits by his phone for an email, a text, a social media message. An answer. 

His hindsight tells him:  _ this will show you exactly where you’re supposed to be. _

He keeps waiting, and then one day he gets a sign. 

~

(jump forward.)

They’re standing in a parking garage in Beijing and Yuuri’s about to have a total nervous breakdown. This is the first time. 

The feeling has been building building building, creeping up Yuuri’s throat, pooling in the back of his mouth like bile. He knows it’s coming; he always knows. 

(“It’s not a vision, per se,” he told his best friend Phichit, back in their first semester as roommates. “It’s a feeling, and a person. That’s all I get.”)

A feeling, and a person. That’s all he gets. 

The person is Victor. The feeling is percussive, like glass shattering, a hard impact that knocks the air from his lungs, and he’s been waiting, waiting, waiting. 

Victor pulls his bangs out of his eyes and says, “if you miss the podium, I’ll take responsibility and resign as your coach.” 

_ You've heard it all before.  _

And Yuuri hears, feels, sees the vision coming true. He slides into the feeling like it’s a skating costume, and the zipper pulls up around his neck and tightens until he can’t breathe, he’s crying, he’s shattered. How could Victor say that? Why would he be so cruel? 

But, of course, Yuuri can’t really be that surprised. He knew this was coming.

~

(try it again.) 

They’re standing in a parking garage in Beijing and Victor has this warm feeling in his chest because he’s in love with this boy. He’s never been more certain of anything in his whole life. By the end of today, the things they say in this garage will have cemented them, clicked them, bonded them tight like atoms forming a molecule. 

He can’t figure out why Yuuri’s being like this, though. Yuuri has always been kind of bewildering, but that’s been part of what makes him so much fun, so fascinating, such a pure and beautiful source of gravity. Victor has weathered so many odd little moments, these flashes where Yuuri’s almost seemed afraid of him, because he can look and see and know that this will all turn out okay.

(“It’s not like memory, you dolt,” he’d told Chris after their third bottle of champagne. “It’s  _ hindsight _ . In the present moment, I have a sense of how things will turn out; it clicks together, like a puzzle. I know how things will turn out, but I just don’t know  _ how _ ; the puzzle pieces are blurry, but the picture itself is clear.”)

But hindsight is not clairvoyance, not by a long shot, so Victor’s still left to his own devices to make decisions and hope they’re the right ones. And for right now, he thinks he might need to do something daring, something outrageous, something  _ surprising _ . He loves surprises, loves doing something unexpected and watching people react and knowing in his core that it will all work out. He knows, he knows, he knows that it will be good. But Yuuri is so fragile, positively trembling with nerves, a rubber band stretched so tight, and so Victor thinks  _ maybe I’ll snap it _ . 

And then the tears start to fall, and Victor wonders if he’s broken everything forever.

~

(jump forward.)

They’re lying on the ice, and Yuuri is trying to regain his breath. The impact of Victor tackling him, the kiss that’s still making him tingle all over, the way things are almost definitely about to change forever— 

This was unexpected. 

No, more than that; this was a  _ terrifying _ unknown. And he had no idea it was coming. 

In the spaces between visions, Yuuri functions alone. Sometimes that’s frightening, and sometimes it’s thrilling. He had gone into the free skate feeling like a snapped rubber band, rubbery with the leftover energy from his meltdown in the garage, his head clear enough and his anxiety depleted enough that he could just  _ do _ , without thinking, without wondering, without fearing what may come as a result. 

He  _ did.  _ And then Victor kissed him. 

Victor seems almost apologetic, but not very. “This was the only thing I could think of that would surprise you more than you’ve surprised me,” he murmurs. 

Yuuri looks up into Victor’s eyes, sees his beaming smile, lips still red, and he thinks,  _ surprise.  _

~

(try it again.)

Victor knew it. He  _ knew _ it. He knew it would all work out. He knew it would be okay. He knew, but he couldn’t say,  _ this is almost it, this is nearly the moment. _

This is better than anything he could have ever imagined.

~

(jump forward.)

_ Victor _ and  _ joy _ . 

It was  _ Victor _ and it was  _ joy. _ Yuuri had no idea what to do with that. He woke up with this brand new feeling in his head; it spun around, a delightful distraction from his silently growing anxiety, but the path towards that sliding feeling into  _ this moment now _ —that has, so far, utterly eluded him. 

Yuuri lets Victor drag him through the streets of Barcelona, and he’s looking looking looking, thinking  _ I’m not crazy, _ thinking  _ I’m not angry, _ thinking  _ I’m not lonely _ . 

Then he sees the jewelry shop. 

_ Baby, don't you worry, _ he realizes.  _ I'm just crazy for you.  _

~

(try it again.)

The ring slides onto Victor’s finger and in that moment he’s the happiest that he’s ever been in his whole entire life. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear crawls down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. 

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asks, eyes like saucers, and Victor chuckles. 

“Nothing. I just...feel like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.” 


End file.
